


Neither a Duty Nor a Privilege

by knittyknicker



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, I'm helpless against prompts, M/M, That's it, just fluff, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittyknicker/pseuds/knittyknicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fury had his day, but the Avengers don't want to wait a whole year for Coulson to have his day too. </p><p>This story goes along with my story The Hardest Job You'll Ever Love</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither a Duty Nor a Privilege

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse. I'm a total pushover when it comes to things like this. On the upside, the prompt did get me to finish the story that's been sitting as just notes since I wrote the father's day version. So, Yay?!

Monday (Thor)

“Son of Coul!”

Phil sighs. Is it really only Monday?

“Yes, Thor.”

“I come bearing a gift for you. The Man of Iron has informed me of your struggle with the beast of paperwork, and while I have never fought such a foe, I wish to aid you in your battles. To that end, I have prepared a supply of ‘incident reports’ that lack only the date, time and details.”

Phil sits back in his chair, twiddling his pen between his fingers. It’s a remarkably helpful thing for Thor to have done and he nods as the god sets them down on his desk. He might even need to thank Stark for taking the initiative to encourage Thor and he reaches out to slide the papers closer.

“Thor, who decided to fill out the forms in lime green sparkle ink?”

“Tony suggested it would keep them from getting lost in something called a ‘shuffle’. Was that in error?”

“No, these definitely won’t get lost. Thank you.”

Thor grins,looking like a giant yellow lab, and Phil fights the urge to pat his head.

“Good luck in your battles, Son of Coul.”

Phil just stares at the papers as Thor strides from the room. Once the office is empty, Phil slides the papers into his desk drawer with a shrug. Not having to fill them out is still worth the aggravation of explaining the glitter. Plus, thanks to his reputation, he’ll only have to explain it once. 

But if Stark thinks this gives him the all clear for the red gel pen with gold sparkles, he’s going to end up tazed unconscious. If only because the paperwork for using a tazer is half that of actually shooting the bastard.

 

Tuesday(Hulk)

“Hulk brings pretties.” The flowers are lovely, and Phil smiles at Hulk, noting that some of the clumps still have roots attached. wonders who he’ll need to placate for the removal of what looks like an entire bed of flowers. 

Hulk pushes them into Phil’s arms, nudging him to take them. The smell of so many flowers is overwhelming and Coulson can already feel his sinuses swelling as his eyes start to water. 

“Thank you, they’re lovely.” 

Hulk grunts, satisfied that his gift is appreciated. Turning, he stomps off to ensure there is nothing left that might need more smashing.

A series of sneezes rips through his frame as he stands, still holding the bouquet, and Phil just prays he can get to the pharmacy before they close.

Wednesday(Bruce)

“Cob id.” Phils sinuses are on fire and his head feels like someone packed it with cotton, soaked it in alcohol and lit it on fire. The only way it could get worse is... no actually, he’s pretty sure it couldn’t get worse short of death, and at this point, death might be a relief.

Bruce pokes his head in, hands clenched around a little metal container. 

“So I had no idea you were so allergic to that type of flower. I made some tea that should help with the symptoms”

Phil is desperate enough that he’d drink the tea even if it tastes like that swamp in Florida where he did his SERE training all those years ago. He picks up the tin, prying up the lid to sniff at the contents. 

“Thank you. I’b sure Id’ll helb.”

“I just hope you aren’t allergic to the tea, too.”

While he appreciates the gesture, maybe he’ll just stick to Benadryl. 

Thursday(Natasha)

“I can’t be here right now.”

“Sit. You have peons; Use them, or I will. Some of them might be good enough for target practice. There is at least one who would survive a round of sparring with me.”

“You aren’t allowed to break the new agents anymore. There was a memo, remember?”

“Pah.”

Phil lifts his hands from the soaking bowls, trying to wipe away the water and grab his phone from the table at his side. He’s got a thousand things to finish before the weekend and every time he turns around there are three new things on the list.

“I wouldn’t”

Phil slumps, stymied at the steel he can hear in Natasha’s voice. “Agent Romanova, do you have any idea how unprofessional this looks?” Coulson gestures at the foam spreaders between his toes. 

“What? They used blue. Your tie is blue. I fail to see the problem.”

“I can’t be here getting a mani-pedi on a workday. Fury will have me shipped to Siberia if he finds out.”

“No he won’t. I told him about this. He suggested we get lunch afterward.”

Phil sighs, slumping back against the chair as the woman rubs his feet and calves. At least he can get clear polish. Hopefully.

Friday(Tony) 

“You wanna tell me why I’ve got Thomas Keller twitching on my floor, Stark?”

“I thought you might be too tired to cook tonight? As to the twitching, I always warned you about tazing before asking questions.”

Phil pokes at the still steaming plate on the counter.

“Come to think of it, how did he get my address and who let him in? It had to be one of you, since the alarms weren’t triggered.”

“Yeah, I did. You should consider upgrading your system. It only took JARVIS 87 seconds to break it.”

“Goddamnit, Stark! This is my private apartment. If I'd wanted to deal with your antics, I’d have moved into the Tower when you invited me.”

“I’m still hurt that you haven’t, you know.”

“Stop breaking into my apartment.”

“But I wanted--” Phil’s thumb mashes the end call button. His shoulders drop, relaxing now that Tony’s not speaking to him. He pokes again at the plate, curious about what the chef made. Shrugging, he picks up the plate and a fork, crossing to the nook and sitting where he can see the unconscious man.

The meal is even better than it looks and he hums happily as he eats, enjoying the treat of eating a meal that didn’t come out of a bag or a box. He’ll have to give the chef his compliments. 

When he comes to.

Saturday(Steve)

Steve rubs the back of his neck, extending a slender box toward Phil. Phil takes it with the same level of care and attention one might handle live explosives. It’s a cardboard jewelry box, but the weight is heavier than he expects and there is no rattling when he shifts it.

“Thank you?”

“I just... when we thought... well, I noticed you had a pretty big collection of books, and I thought you might like these. They’re nothing special, just something I whipped up for you. But anyway, thanks. I hope you like them.”

Phil slides the top back to reveal beautiful labels, each one bearing a different drawing and the legend ‘From the Collection of Phillip J. Coulson’. He traces reverent fingers over the labels, noting that there are enough to do a pretty big percentage of his library.

“These are amazing.”

“Um, I’m glad you like them. I’ve got some archival safe adhesive for them too, but I couldn’t figure out how to wrap it, so it’s sitting in my locker.”

Phil clears his throat, sliding the lid back onto the box. “Well, thank you, I really do appreciate them.”

Steve smiles, blushing and ernest, and Phil recalls again why the man has long been a hero of his. 

“No problem, really. You do a lot for us, I just wanted to do something nice in return.” Steve scuffs his heel once more before gesturing over his shoulder, “I’ll just go get the paste, OK?” 

Phil nods, and Steve is gone, shoes thumping down the hallway, as Phil sits at his desk, staring at the box of labels, a little smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. 

Sunday(Clint)

The door swings open slowly while Phil enjoys the luxury of a lazy morning to bask in the sunlight and the warmth of his bed.

“Hungry?”

Phil’s surprised to hear a voice and even more when he sees what Clint’s carrying. The tray is loaded down with breakfast; berries and greek yogurt, pancakes, orange juice in a glass topped carafe and two large mugs of coffee. Carefully, Clint flips down the legs on the tray, placing it over Phil’s lap before climbing back under the blankets beside him. 

“What’s this?”

“Well, most people call it breakfast. You know, the stuff that goes with the coffee.”

“Ha, ha, smartass. You know what I meant.”

“It’s a thank you.”

Phil thinks back; Nothing worth a thank you like this sticks out. “For what?” 

“For keeping us going, for picking up our pieces,for treating us like you care.”

“I care. I don’t want to have to train up a whole new group. I just got you all broken in.”

“No, seriously though. We’ve been trying to thank you all week. None of us wanted to wait a whole year to let you know how much we appreciate everything you do.”

“I knew it! This is like the Father’s day thing, isn’t it?”

“Well, mostly.”

“What do you mean mostly? Besides, why wait? Why not get me and Fury at the same time?”

“Because we missed your day.”

“How?”

“Because it was in May.”

Phil is silent for a beat.

“Wait, so I’m the mom? You know, it makes sense, you are all a bunch of unruly children, but it makes what we’re doing now really wr--”

Clint rolls his eyes at Phil’s words, dragging the man in to kiss him silent. Finally, he draws back, pleased at the dopey look on the agent’s face.

“Shut up, Phil, and Happy Mother’s Day.”


End file.
